


Home Cookin'

by Jeannyboy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Food Fight, M/M, cooking gone wrong, hanzo housewife, hanzo tries to cook, kitchen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeannyboy/pseuds/Jeannyboy
Summary: Hanzo and McCree move in together and Hanzo wants to prove that he can be a good partner by showing McCree he can be the Caroline to his Charles Ingalls.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this idea came from. I really like writing cowboys, the drawl and just using my own southern taste is fun to write. 
> 
> Just a short since I've now added another ship to my armada. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

During their first year of living together, Hanzo vowed that he would be a partner Jesse could be proud of. Not that he was ever shy or unwilling to claim Hanzo as his.

Hanzo did his best to observe what Jesse enjoyed in life. He wanted to be able to give the cowboy what he wanted. It was small things that Hanzo would take notice of before they started to share their domain. He would act nonchalant, but his hawk like eyes would take in everything. 

When the two would go out to eat, it never failed that the gunslinger would order sweet tea topped with a lemon if it was too early in the day for hard liquor. He would eat hardy meals slathered in gravy that would be mopped up with a biscuit or cornbread, leafy greens steaming on the side that would be doused with vinegar. Cobbler sitting under a mound of frozen ice cream would follow after, none of it ever withstanding the eventual workout that would come later in the evening, whether it be in the gym or the bedroom.

Hanzo would eat foods refined to his more delicate tongue, often asking for plain rice with a side of vegetables, water quenching any meal related thirst he had.

Jesse would joke about Hanzo not wanting to wreck his pretty figure, uproarious laughter preceding that fond smile he would give the archer before curling his bionic fingers around his partners across the table top.

 

It was these observations that had Hanzo standing in their kitchen, hands on his hips, 2 hours before Jesse was scheduled to be home. A portable holo screen sat on the counter, displaying multiple windows of information on southern style cooking. The archer had been pouring over them for the last few days, gathering the ingredients and somehow hiding them from Jesse before his attempt at cooking for the man.

He had settled on trying his hand at what he had amassed was the most southern meal one could have: Fried chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy, collard greens, cornbread, a desert of apple pie, topped of with a gallon of sweet tea. He glanced at the stove top where the simplest of these already bubbled away on the stove top, the scent of brewing tea wafting through the kitchen.

Looking one last time at the holo screen, Hanzo rolled up the sleeves of his boyfriends plaid shirt he'd donned, and set out on his attempt at being what he assumed was a proper Mrs. Ingalls.

 

“Hanzy I'm home!” Jesse entered their shared domain, bellowing what he thought was a clever play on words. It takes him a moment to realize that, while he's hanging his serape and hat by the door, there's no answer from his beloved. “I could've sworn he said he was staying in today.” He mutters beneath his breath just as a crash comes from the kitchen, followed by a curse.

Jesse wastes no time in barreling into the kitchen, stopping short at the sight before him.

Hanzo is standing over the sink with what looks to be the remainders of a pie in the basin. The kitchen is a disaster around him. On one counter beside the stove, there seems to be an assembly line of flour and egg leading to what is easily noticed as fried chicken. Or charred chicken, the flaky skin bordering between burnt umber and ebony. The trash can had been pulled over to the bar where a few potato peels had escaped onto the floor, next to what is definitely a crushed box of Jiffy mix.

Jesse's gaze is brought back to his boyfriend as he lunges back to the stove to remove a pot of boiling greens from the angry red eye. He stands for a second with his back to Jesse before he turns to look at the man behind him, a sheepish look on his face, embarrassment flushing his cheeks.

“Hanzo...?” Jesse's lips lifted from his look of concern to one of amusement. His chocolate eyes twinkle with curiosity. “Darlin', what in tarnation are you up to?” He saunters over to his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around the other man as Hanzo turns to face him, planting his face in the tan button up that covered his chest. Jesse chuckles as Hanzo mumbles into his chest.

“Honey, I can't hear you. Come up here.” Jesse wedges his finger beneath his partners chin, raising it to look him in the eye. He kisses his nose before Hanzo takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I was trying to cook.”

Jesse lifts his eyes, scanning the kitchen one more time. “Trying be the key word.”

“Don't laugh at me. I was doing it for you.” Hanzo's face flushes darker before he turns away, grabbing a towel to clean halfheartedly at the flour and egg that caked the counter.

“Ohhoho baby, baby. C'mere.” He attempts to gather Hanzo in his arms before the other shakes him off, elegantly moving around Jesse like water around a boulder. He can hear Jesse scoff and darts past him as he tries a second time to grab at Hanzo.

“Hanzo, really? You slippery fuckin snake, c'mere.” He grits his teeth, a smirk lifting his lips as he finally grabs hold to the edge of his own shirt that hangs loosely on his boyfriends frame, pulling the archer into him. They wrestle around, Jesse backing Hanzo into the counter, securing his lips to the others'. Hanzo desists his trivial attempts to fight Jesse off, deciding instead to wrap his arms around the taller mans' neck, smiling into their kiss.

They stay lip locked for only a few moments before Jesse pulls away. “Now, I could kiss you all day darlin', I really could but...why does my kitchen look like a tornado passed through? Where's Dorothy?” He pulls at the neck of Hanzo's shirt, looking for said woman before he's met with a face of flour.

The starch blows across his face, sticking into his beard, making him look like a Geisha, his kiss reddened lips standing out against the white of his face. Hanzo bites his bottom lip to, unsuccessfully, stop himself from smiling. He stares up at the bewildered look on Jesse's face for only a short moment before Jesse is dumping the remainder of the flour onto the top of his head. White snows down around them and it isn't long before they're both acting like children, throwing around food, smothering milky potatoes over white and tanned skin, Hanzo hopping over the mess the collards make as they hit the floor, being knocked from the stove by Jesse's stray arm as he tries to dodge the wooden gravy spoon Hanzo bares at him like a sword.

It isn't until Jesse slips on a piece of fried chicken and lands on his ass in the filthy floor, dragging a laughing Hanzo down beside him, that they cease their shenanigans. They sit there, tears in their eyes, guts straining from laughing so hard. Jesse looks over at his boyfriend, watching him as he laughs harder than he'd seen him since they moved in together. There was gravy in his hair, dripping down onto his neck, sliding under the plaid shirt that had a few buttons loose from their game.

Jesse slides his hand up to Hanzo's face, tucking a piece of food encrusted hair behind his ear. Hanzo's laughter quiets, turning to a hum as he leans into Jesse's firm hand. He opens his eyes, only to close them again as Jesse lurches forward, catching his lips for a chaste kiss.

As he's pulling back, Jesse holds his stare. “Darlin'...are you finally gonna tell me what this is all about?”

Hanzo's face flushes again but the sparkle in his eye doesn't disappear. He laughs, watching their fingers as they twine around each other, laughing and cringing at the mush that covered them.

“I just feel like I can't make you happy.”

Jesse's eyes grew to the size of his own belt buckle. “What? What makes you think that?” His grip on Hanzo's hand tightened and his full attention was back on his boyfriend.

“I mean, we watch those westerns and you always comment how you wouldn't mind having that. The housewife with dinner ready, the coziness, _the_ life. And we've never eaten those kind of meals that I know you love, like your mother made when you were small.” Hanzo pulls his hand away from Jesse's, pulling his knees to his chest, he sets his chin on them. “I was just trying to surprise you with something that you want, something that would make you happy.” He won't look Jesse in the eyes, opting instead to star intently at a chicken bone that had escaped under the lip of the cabinets.

Jesse has to scramble to a kneeling position in front of his boyfriend and cup his hands around his face, forcing Hanzo to face him. Jesse finally catches his eye and doesn't look away.

“Hanzo, baby. Don't you ever think that I don't have anythin' that I don't want. I have you, and that's all I need. If we eat rice for every meal and drink sake every night instead of Jack, I'm happy to do it as long as you're by my side. Honey, sweetie, darlin'.” He gathers Hanzo in his arms, resting his chin on his lovers head. “I love you. I loved walking in to see you wearing my shirt. To know that you're here when we're done with missions, _waiting on each other._ You don't have to worry about impressing me with your...horrible cooking.” Hanzo laughs and Jesse pulls back, grinning. “I mean really, this is terrible. It's like you intentionally destroyed the kitchen.”

Seemingly on cue, the smoke alarm goes off and that's when Hanzo realizes he left the cornbread in the oven too long. The look of horror on his face isn't strong enough to keep him from laughing as he pulls the blackened lump from the oven.

“How did you even manage to ruin the one thing you made from the box!?” Jesse cackles over the smoke alarm, fanning it with a pot holder until the shrieking stops. Once again, they've made it to the center of the mess, ground zero if you will, standing side by side, one arm wrapped around the other. They survey the damage, chuckling to themselves.

“Sucks...now we have to actually clean this mess.”

Jesse let's out a low whistle. “Let's hope you clean house better than you cook.”

 

 


End file.
